


Hell Froze Over

by SiryyGray



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hypothermia, I just want them to have a meaningful relationship outside of their respective shit with bruce, Tumblr Prompt, like they actually do but dc hardly if ever acknowledges or lets them be brothers so i guess i gotta, no jaydick, ya nasties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiryyGray/pseuds/SiryyGray
Summary: Gotham Harbour is about to become a vigilante’s grave.





	Hell Froze Over

The horribly familiar sound of a knife sinking into spun steel was like hearing a nail rammed into a coffin.

Dick felt the give of his line, the one that was— will have been — wrapped firmly around the landing skid of a pitch-black helicopter packed full of stolen viruses and software that had to potential to collapse half the worlds economy in less then a year.

As the machine rose higher, it’s blades beating gravity down with a vengeance, Dick could feel his line shiver under the stress. It was splintering and his stomach dropped at the sight of the dark expanse of water below him. They’d flown out of their way to get rid of him. Permanently. Dick’s rope was already at its end, there was no getting closer to lessen the impact onto the... the ice.

Of course the water was half frozen over.

Fucking Gotham.

The one night he agreed to cover for Tim and it might be his last.

Wonderful.

Frantically he started trying to pull a flare from his belt, hastily sending a distress beacon as he went about wrenching at the cap with his teeth. His arm was going numb as the last wire holding his aloft began to fray.

Dick yanked off the activation tab and plummeted downwards. Wind pulled at his hair and lungs, stealing his breath as quickly as it did his ground above the harbour. He tried to aim his back downwards but the rushing air continually pushed his head towards to rapidly approaching tundra.

It was getting closer.

Too close.

 _Way too close_.

And with the closeness of the freezings waters and sheet of ice came the dawning realization that he wasn’t getting out of this.

With only meters between him and hypothermia, Dick let out a desperate shout, twisting near violently to get his feet under him before a sickening crunch reached his ears.

He felt his bones shattering, not clean breaks, pressing hard against his skin. In the micro second before he was plunged beneath the surface, the sheer amount of immediate pain knocked any remaining breath from him.

The ice broke on impact, sending him in chilled waters. Dick’s body went ridged to the cold and he felt the fatigue settling into his limbs at an unprecedented pace.

He was sinking.

Fast.

He couldn’t even force himself to move as water bit into his skin and pulled him deeper.

 _Would they ever find his body_?

Dick felt a burn in his lungs, and the panic of being unable to breath spurred his muscles to draw on some reserve of adrenaline he apparently had.

It had been, what, two minutes under now? Three?

He couldn’t think straight.

Dick tried to kick upwards to the shrinking dot of moonlight.

Bad move.

Pain radiated up his form from his broken legs. He placed a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging from the sudden sickness bubbling in his throat.

Everything felt hot inside and frostbitten outside. He was starting to curl in on himself, nearly choking on the water slipping between his teeth and into his lungs.

Everything hurt.

He was tired and his vision was tilted. Dick blinked hard, trying to focus on that pinpoint of dull light that was rapidly vanishing.

He was pushing six minutes, vision tunnelling and hazy buzz filling his ears. Slowly Dick pulled his hand away from his mouth, watching with horrified amusement as little bubbles rose from his lips, leaving him to suffocate.

Distantly he heard thumps tracking above him, like footsteps, but...

But it‘s so dark.

He‘s exhausted.

If he just closes his eyes for a second... just for a second... just for... just...

———————————————————

Heavy boots pounded against the ice of Gotham Harbour, steel toes leaving a trail of cleaved footprints.

It was thick ice, about three and a half inches, which means it was thin enough to break with too much force but dense enough to do serious damage if you were dropped from a helicopter roughly ten stories up.

Like Dick had been.

The distress call had come in about five minutes ago, Jason had been two away. He’d arrived just in time to see a trail of pale yellow smoke following after something small and dark as it slammed into the mix of ice and liquid nitrogen.

Followed by dreaded silence.

No shouts, no splashes or gasps.

Just silence.

The three and a half inches of ice wasn’t thick enough to support his bike so he went on foot, cursing all the way. The damned ‘copter had flown nearly eight hundred yards out to drown their tail. Dedication, he had to admit, but it was about to get Dick killed.

Differences aside, Jason doesn’t hate his predecessor.

Thats not to say he’d really go out of his way for him, but he cares. Enough to hang out together every few weeks, enough to give a hand on a case or raid, and enough to not want him dead.

Jason skidded to a stop at the fracture in the sea of tinted ice. Spiderwebs of cracks splintered out several feet from the hole, ones that would definitely give way under Jason’s weight. “Crap.”

He yanked off his helmet and started tugging frantically at the sleeves of his jacket. As he stripped off a sweatshirt, his eyes were roaming with determination (desperation) around the landscape, looking for something— anything —sturdy.

His eyes settled on a buoy frozen in place not to many paces away. With the press of a button he extends the entirety of his grappling line, the hooked end of which was tied onto the thin metal railing of the buoy, and the grip held tightly in his palm.

“Okay,” He kicked off his boots, “okay. This’ll work. This’ll- yeah. Okay.” He put a rebreather between his teeth and jumped.

Through the stinging cold, Jason swam down, drawing in as measured breaths as were to be expected in a situation this stressful.

It was getting harder to see, his hands were numbing in the water. And he couldn’t see Dick. Silt and murk were muddling his vision and he was starting to panic.

He was running out of time.

Frantically he kept plunging downwards, slowing losing all sense of ocular awareness and relying mostly on touch to search for Dick’s body- for _Dick_.

His hand brushed something solid and cool. Jason grabbed hold and pulled upwards, feeling along the form ‘til he had one arm hooked under his shoulder and held steady against his own chest. His line went taunt and began dragging two up.

They broke the surface unceremoniously without shouts of victories or even a sputtering gasp.

Jason spat out the rebreather and hauled Dick out of the water. He wasn’t breathing.

“Shit.”

The younger man tore off his glove and held two fingers to his neck. Weak pulse. Definitely filled his lungs with water on the trip down.

And he’s not _fucking breathing_ -

Jason pulled Dick further from the weakened ice. He tilted the older vigilantes head upwards, pinching his nose and blowing air back into his lungs.

On some level, it felt like he was defiling his, well, his _brother_. He should’t have to be doing this, having to do fucking rescue breaths for a comrade. He should’t have to think about him drowning or anyone else being killed every night.

He could feel just how cold Dick’s skin was and the unnatural paleness to his complexion looked ghastly.

“C’mon, dickhead.” He huffed, hysteria edging into his voice. “You’re too stubborn to go out like this.”

A wet, strangled cough jerked through Dick’s chest, water bubbling from his mouth as he lurched onto his side. A wave of relief washed over Jason.

He placed one hand on Dick’s upwards facing shoulder and the other on the small of his back to keep him steady. For minutes he sat there, keeping his brother in place as he threw up what had to be several liters of water.

It was only then that Jason realized Dick was missing his mask. Probably loosened and tugged away by the will of the harbour.

When the sickness seemed to pass, Jason straightened. “Hey,” he said, tightening his grip in a hopes to ground the other, “you with me?”

Dick was out of it, clearly. His eyes were clouded and expression blank, but communication is helpful even if half-ass and uncertain.

“Y-yeah,” he responded shakily, bracing one hand beneath him and trying to sit up. “I- _shit_ ,” Dick turned to the side and heaved.

Once the tension and strain in his muscles from emptying his stomach faded, Dick practically folded in on himself. “Hey!” Jason shot forward, only just managing to kept him upright, sorta, letting the older lean against his side, an arm wrap firmly around his shoulder,

“Dick? Hey, Don’t black out on me.” He heard the dull, rattling breaths plowing through Dick’s chest. The intense shivers and chattering teeth. “W-w-won’t,” he forced out between the chills running through him.

“Good, cause we really gotta go.“ He snatched his jacket and sweater and off the ground, hastily wrapping Dick in both and shoving his feet into his— blessedly —dry boots.

“You were under way too long and I’d rather get back before someone jacks my bike-“ “J-jay.” Dick interrupted breathlessly,

“I c-c-c,” he swallowed back a gag and tried again.

“I _can’t_.”

Jason looked down, startled and a little confused, “What?”

“M-m-my legs. I... F-fuck.”

“Your... Oh.”

Jason looked and felt something heavy drop in his stomach.

A stone, maybe an anvil.

“Christ...”

They weren’t just broken. They looked like straws that some kid had been using like pipe-cleaners. Jason could feel icy beads dripping from his face as he stared in— in _horror_  —at the mangled limbs.

Possible nerve damage, months in casts and double the time in rehab.

A hand was weakly pulling at the sleeve of his shirt.

“Can’t wa-walk.”

Dick was practically panting from the effort it took to speak, looking at Jason with tired, hazy eyes. Jason had a tendency to get tunnel vision, that was no secret. Added to the fact that he had been trying to, in effect revive, a sibling and you’re gonna have a preoccupied and shortsighted Jason.

But this was something he shouldn’t’ve missed.

“That’s... that’s fine. It’s not too far out. I can pull your dumb ass back in, ‘kay?” Dick stared at him blearily, blinking hard like he couldn’t get things into focus before nodding.

Jason, still sitting back on his knees, drew Dick’s arms around his neck, holding them together at his sternum. “This is probably gonna hurt like hell but try not to move.”

He slowly dragged himself and his brother up, wincing all the while because he could feel Dick pressing his forehead into his back and gritting his teeth hard enough to chip them.

His breaths were coming in choked gasps and his shoulders were shaking worse then before. “You alright?” Jason asked.

“No,” Dick replied weakly, “ _go_.”

He complied, taking long strides across the ice and peppered snow, hoping once again that no one stole his bike because otherwise they were screwed.

Jason did all he could to ignore the crescents being cut into Dick’s palm as to refrain from crying out.

About halfway across, Jason stumbled. His stupid boot had dug a rut into the ground and he tripped.

The epitome of grace.

As he regained his footing, he heard the sound of a breath hitching from his passenger.

“W-why’re you ca-arryin’...” Dick shifted in his hold, “I-“ Jason felt some of the, weight lifted off his shoulders. As in, the _literal_  weight.

“Wh- Shit! Stop it!” Dick dropped back down, with what was dangerously close to being a sob.

“Your legs are fucked, idiot! Did you forget about that?!”

Jason shouted, feeling the first inkling of fear-driven anger bubbling in his stomach.

“My..? Oh.” The confusion rolling from Dick was palpable. Jason began to trudge forward, fixing his gaze ahead where he could see his bike waiting.

“H-head h’rts...” Dick mumbled between the intense inhales racketing his chest. “I know man, I know. Just keep your eyes open.”

Memory loss.

Bad sign.

He was getting less coherent, which meant the wet uniform was making Dick quite accommodating to hypothermia.

He pressed on, almost smiling when they reached his bike. But before he had the chance, he notice something.

Some sick, twisted version of karma, or the universe just messing with him. Playing a gross practical joke.

 _The fucking tires were missing_.

“Damnit!” He growled, kicking the absolutely _useless_  vehicle.

“What..?”

He breathed out hard, eyes darting about for any signs of civility. Apparently, not to many decent people are hanging around this particular abandoned waterfront at three am.

“Nothing, it’s nothing we-... we’re just gonna have to wait a bit.” He spotted a small tackle shop, about the size of those ticket booths at carnivals.

Quickly as he could, Jason made his way over and kicked in the door. It was covered with layers of dust and mostly empty, save pile of well-loved plaid shirts and an old sign.

The letters were too faded to make out, but it didn’t really matter. He ducked inside and pushed the busted up door shut, leaning the sign against it to keep out unwanted wind.

Cautiously he let down his brother, leaning his back against a wall in a mostly upright position.

Luckily Dick was still conscious. And feeling ever ounce of pain Jason inadvertently inflicted.

“J-j-jay.” He stuttered, looking frustrated all the while. “Dickhead.” He deadpanned, leaning over to inspect the damage on his legs, and boy was it bad.

“Hell. We’re gonna have to immobilize your legs Dick.” He pulled out a knife and started tearing the dusty old shirts into long strips.

“W-wait,” Dick protested, shaking his head, “jus-s-...” He put a hand behind him to stay upright.

Jason happily ignored him, instead choosing to yank the trimming off the door and line them up with Dick’s leg. Who was currently glaring at him through the exhaustion.

Jason sighed, shooting the older man an almost pleading look. “Listen we can’t just leave them like this,“ “Sh-sh-shock.” Dick intervened, “Jay I-... I’ll.”

He closed his eyes and tried in vain to slow the volatile rasps coming from his throat.

“M’c-cold.”

Jason hated the feeling creeping up in him.

Just- just _helplessness_.

Utterly helplessness.

He’d sent out his own beacon during the trek to the tackle shack, and all he could really do was hope that someone was on their way.

He backed away from the mess of skin and shattered bone “Okay.” he raised his hands in a surrender, “Okay, Dick. Just... I’m not gonna touch ‘em, yeah?”

He settled besides Dick, allowing their shoulders to press against one another for warmth and maybe his own reassurance.

The shaking wasn’t coming in intervals of intensity anymore, it was just a constant hum of trembling. Every few seconds Jason found himself looking down to make sure Dick was still awake.

After a while he started to ramble. Not about anything in particular, just because he knew even if he was completely fine and not slowly shutting down due to freezing temperatures, Dick would be falling asleep from the stillness and silence of the room.

He draped an arm across Dick’s shoulder and leaned him into his side without a problem and that was kinda the scary part.

Even as he pushed through some random idea he had a few nights ago, there was a growing discomfort. Because Dick was always the one talking.

He was always the one to protest and make conversation.

His brother was an insanely stubborn person. Had he been even a little coherent he would’ve insisted that Jason stay in his comfort zone of almost exclusively touch through combat and antagonist rather then this.

That is what scared him.

That and the fact that Dick’s lips were so blue they looked pained and his skin looked like wax.

“M’tired.” A soft voice broke his train of speech and he was suddenly aware of the absence of gasps and shivering.

“Shit,”

Jason could feel panic skipping down his spine.

Dick’s body is shutting down.

“M’really tired.”

Breathing is way too shallow.

“ _shit_.” Jason shook him slighting,

“Don’t sleep.” He demanded, gripping Dicks shoulder tight enough to bruise. Dick didn’t even have the energy to pull away.

“Jay... it’s c’ld.”

Jason felt like throwing up. Or hitting something. Where the hell are the rest of this stupid towns vigilantes?!

A hand weakly held the hem of his shirt, “H’rts.... tired..”

“Don’t sleep. Dick, listen to me. _Don’t fucking sleep_.”

He watched uselessly as Dick blinked, long and slow, turning his head to stare up at Jason.

“S’rry.”

He slumped forward.

Jason fumbled to keep him from knocking his head against the floorboards.

“Fuck.” He muttered, he voice shaking more then he would ever admit, pulling Dick’s limp form closer in a last ditch attempt to keep him warm.

He tucked his brother’s head against his shoulder, keeping one hand against his neck, feeling his pulse as is slowed.

He stayed like that, trying not to panic, keeping two fingers firmly pressed into Dick’s clammy skin. Counting the beat drumming gently beneath it.

He doesn’t know how long he stayed frozen in place like that. He could barley concentrate on anything other then the cold dread seeping into his stomach.

There was a timid knock as someone pushed the door open.

“Cass,” he breathed, exhaustion and pent-up fear flooding out. “He’s not- _I couldn’t_ \- We gotta go.”

She nodded silently, taking a little less then half of Dick’s weight, slinging his arm over her shoulder with an arm on his waist.

They pulled him across the snow-specked ground towards an empty, very cracked, road. Jason could hear the roar of a car ringing through the air.

“He’ll be okay.” Cass reassured, tapping his hand with her own.

“You did what you could.”

Jason drew in a sharp breath. “Yeah. Might not be enough.”

She huffed, “ _You did what you could_.” “Yeah. Might not be enough.”

He watched the Batmobile (still a stupid name...) pull up and he and Cassandra laid Dick inside alongside Jason who Cass insisted needed to go too.

“You’re shaking,” she pointed out with a frustrated glare, “and you’re tired.”

Jason grumbled but complied. She gave him a hard, somewhat understanding look as the car peeled away.

She mouthed a single word as she began to fade from view.

“Rest.”

Jason sunk down into his seat miserably. Easier said then done. 

_Fucking Gotham._

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from letgraysonheart.  
> Feel free to slide on over and send me requests and such on tumblr (Liathgray).  
> Thanks for reading, ‘til next time.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [It hurts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806983) by [nxttime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nxttime/pseuds/nxttime)




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